channeling 8

Channeling 8 by Karly Siroky

Today it was 107 degrees outside. Inside, it was a cool, crisp 77. That’s Southern Oregon in mid-August. 

Lately I’ve been focused on being productive, on bringing in new clients, on moving product. Traveling home from meetings in Seattle, I made a list of thirteen things I could do to improve my business and my finances: set up monthly tax payments, select a new health plan, decide which cloud storage platform would be most cost-effective. 

Since when did I become such an adult? 

Often times in an effort to lull myself to sleep, I’ll indulge in a good old fashioned YouTube binge. Last night it was dance videos by Adam Sevani (think, teenage heart throb from Step Up 2, 3, etc.), including a dance battle between him and Miley Cyrus. These are not my proudest moments. 

The night before, I had a dance party in my driveway. The radio was playing my jams, and instead of getting dolled up and going out on the town (it was Wednesday, and this is Ashland, where you’re more likely to find a Bunko Club than a night club), I decided to just dance, right there, with only the barn cat as my witness. She eyed me curiously. 

Photo by Karly Siroky

I was searching for something, but couldn’t quite put a finger on it. 

With the weekend fast approaching, I realized that for once in my life I had no plans. Typically, when faced with 48 hours of empty calendar, my Type A brain goes into overdrive, and I immediately conjure up a tall stack of check boxes. 

This weekend, however, with temps in the triple digits, I simply wasn’t in the mood. If there were one box I hoped to cross off, it was simply: SURVIVE. 

I called Grandma. We packed the cooler with Dutch cheese and a six-pack of Limonata, and headed for the neighbors’ pool. A friend and his daughter were already there, along with her two giant, inflatable companions: Sea Turtle and Stingray. 

“C’mon!” she shouted, “Join the party!” I worried about messing up my hair, about my very non-waterproof mascara running down my face. 

Who was I trying to impress? I chose Stingray. 

We laughed and splashed ourselves silly. I asked how old she was. “Eight!” she smiled. “Well, I’m twenty-eight,” I replied, cocking an eyebrow. “If you didn’t have the 2,” she said, “then you’d also be 8!” 

I lay on the grass, studying the micro communities of insects, imagining that the cast from Honey I Shrunk the Kids was still lost down there somewhere. I watched the vapor trail of an airplane silently spread its way across the cobalt blue sky. I didn’t bother worrying about my makeup, nor any missed messages that might be waiting on my iPhone, which I’d purposely left at home. 

Finally, I realized what it was I’d been missing: PLAY. 

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Karly Siroky serves as Lucia's design advisor. A brand strategist and visual designer, she is based out of her '88 motorhome (Big Betty) and migrates with the seasons. She spent the summer traveling the American West, working via Wi-Fi booster from national parks, sweltering deserts, and inspiring mountain heights in California, Nevada, Arizona, Colorado and Utah. Read about her travel adventures at her blog, C'est la RV, and see her work and connect with her at karlysiroky.com.